Understanding the Pain
by Vyctori
Summary: Late one night, Kratos and Regal remember their pasts.


Understanding the Pain  
_Vyctori_

A/N: This is just a brief little one-shot I wrote after realising that, with their similar histories and personalities, Regal and Kratos probably could have become good friends (if they actually had been in the same party for long enough). I'm actually quite fond of it, and I hope the rest of you will be, too!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own _Tales of Symphonia_.

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The fire crackled into the chill silence. The normal darkness of night was interrupted by a soft purple glow from the sky that was Derris-Kharlan in its alarming proximity. It was not a relaxing sight. For many, it brought confusion and fear of an unknown fate, even a terror that the world was about to end.

But for the two men seated by the fire, the last ones awake that night, it was a constant reminder of their duty to a task begun that had to be seen to the end, no matter the consequences.

"A duke and an Angel of Cruxis as travelling companions." Kratos' voice was soft, so as not to wake the others. "Unusual."

"Mm." Regal watched a spark escape the ring of stones imprisoning their campfire and stepped on it without hurry.

Time passed. Little changed.

"So, Lloyd is your son." Regal's eventual comment was thoughtful.

As always, Kratos was sitting a little away from the circle of light the fire cast. His face was shadowed as he answered. "Yes."

". . . You must be proud of him."

"Hmm. He's grown considerably since I met him at Martel Temple in Iselia."

Regal could tell that while Kratos was one to be extremely grudging with his compliments and was a man who hid his emotions as much as he possibly could, there was true pride in his voice, as well what would be called tenderness in a less embittered man.

"Although I must confess to one thing." Regal shifted slightly so he could better watch the face of his companion. "It is an odd feeling to know that a man who appears younger than me has a son almost eighteen years of age."

A mocking half-smile appeared on Kratos' face, though Regal could tell that any mockery was self-directed. "So I would imagine."

It was a while before Regal voiced the next part of the conversation. "What was she like?"

Kratos knew whom he was talking about without having to ask. He sat still and remembered.

". . . They call me an angel, but the true angel was Anna." His head tilted downwards. "I remember her as beautiful, but I'm sure she was only pretty to others. No doubt you will find it amusing, but at the time, I remembered thinking she was the most wonderful woman I had ever met. And" —his mouth twisted— "after living for more than four thousand years, I have met many, many women."

"I would not laugh." Regal's tone was just as subdued as that of Kratos.

Kratos glanced at the older-appearing man. "I intend no offence, but you don't seem the type."

"No." Regal sounded rueful. "But . . . I feel I can understand at least some of your pain."

Kratos didn't answer, but Regal knew he was listening.

Regal's gaze dropped to the shackles around his wrists. "I don't suppose anyone has told you the reason I keep my hands bound, have they?"

"No, they haven't." Kratos' voice was neutral.

"I murdered my fiancée," Regal said simply. He heard Kratos take in a sudden breath. "I killed her with my own hands."

The only response Kratos gave to his statement, however was, "Would you consider it rude if I asked why?"

"No." Regal shook his head once, deliberately. ". . . Alicia was a servant in my household. We fell in love, but my most faithful retainer knew that love between a master and servant would not be accepted by society. Acting in the place of my departed parents, he sent Alicia away to a certain man who was doing research on Exspheres and their effects on the human body."

"I . . . see."

"The next time I saw Alicia was the last." For him, this was the hard part of the story to tell. "Vharley, the dealer in Exspheres, brought her back to me. The experiments had failed, and because of that, my dear Alicia was . . . transformed into a monster with only a shred of her former self clinging to its body.

"She begged me to kill her. And so I did. I didn't know if the effects were reversible. Perhaps they were. Perhaps she would have stayed a monster for the rest of her life. But it does not matter. I killed her." The firelight glinted off Regal's shackles. "And I have been repenting for that sin ever since."

"It seems" —Kratos' voice was unsteady and low— "that you and I are not so different."

Regal looked at him for the first time since beginning his tale and saw that, like him, Kratos' face held deep pain.

"You, too?" Regal asked, slight moisture filming his eyes. It was all he needed to say.

"Yes." Kratos' hands fisted and he bowed his head in a too-controlled movement.

It was a while before either man could manage to speak. Both struggled with their pasts, but this time, it was not quite as hard as before.

After all, they were not the only ones to have suffered so.

". . . Thank you, Regal," Kratos said when he was in control of himself again.

Regal shook his head. "No, thank you. I feel . . . better, having shared my story with one who could understand more than any other."

"And it is comforting to know that . . . I am not the only one." It was clear the words were difficult for Kratos to say, having kept those memories and emotions tightly locked away.

"When this is over, what will you do?" Regal asked, after a pause. "Will you stay with your son?"

Kratos closed his eyes. "No. The world needs no reminder of Cruxis once Yggdrasill is defeated. I will remain in Derris-Kharlan and rid it of its Exspheres."

"I see. As for me, I will use all my company's resources to aid those who have been affected by the Desians and their Exspheres, as well as use my authority to destroy the Exsphere mine." Regal sighed ever so slightly. "It is the very least I can do, so no one else suffers like Alicia . . . or Presea."

Kratos did not need to add the names of those he knew who had been affected. Despite being unspoken, Anna's name was audible in the minds of both men.

". . . Shall I take first watch?" Kratos asked, setting another log on the fire.

"Very well." Regal rose to his feet. "Wake me when it is my turn."

"All right."

They parted ways, Regal going to his bedroll and Kratos beginning the long wait in darkness.


End file.
